Flightless Bird
by Fallen Angel Of The Forgotten
Summary: He had wings, but could not fly. He was far too delicate, and this was far too dangerous. But the pain was worth the pleasure, because in the end both would make his poison bleed freely. Rikuo/Zen.


**Summary: **He had wings, but could not fly. He was far too delicate, and this was far too dangerous. But the pain was worth the pleasure, because in the end both would make his poison bleed freely. Rikuo/Zen.

Flightless Bird

If he was honest with himself, Zen would say that yes, he was dangerous. He was the kind of dangerous that was beautiful to look at, okay to be around, but deadly to touch. Touching was bad where he was concerned, unless he was the one to initiate, because otherwise that touch might bring out pain, or suffering or tears of agony. Because touching was only ever used to bring out the poison in him.

And that was fine, because really, who would ever want to touch him anyway? He was a frail creature, made with death in mind. His father had been the same, and just like him had relied upon the Nura family for protection. And his grandfather before him had been the same. Three generations of men that had frail, delicate bodies and dangerous, deadly poison running through them. Zen's grandfather had laid down laws within the house to keep them from hurting anyone. The laws were there, even now, because Zen was still young, even if he was experienced, and mistakes were still possible.

_Don't allow touch unless you control it; lack of control invites Death._

_Don't allow yourself to become extremely sympathetic, or actively seek out attention; to do so is to invite catastrophe._

_And lastly, do not allow coupling to take place until you are certain that safeguards have been put into place. To do so is to show arrogance about your own control._

Those three laws made up the staple of Zen's world. He followed them to the letter, never tried to go against the grain or do things that were not within his immediate grasp. He was cautious, but still allowed his temper to speak for him. His temper was who he was; it was _all _he was. Without that temper, he would have been dead several thousand times over.

Which was why this was so odd.

He was going against everything he knew by doing this, everything he had been taught, especially concerning the Nura clan. But Rikuo had initiated it, had told him in quiet, patient tones that he knew what he was doing, what the dangers were, and how to skillfully avoid them. All Zen had to do was relax and try to enjoy it.

"Nnngh…"

Which he was. Trying to, anyway. Nura had told him that this would hurt, and he hadn't been wrong. The hands on his body were gentle, calm, patient, rubbing themselves over his skin in soothing patterns while Zen clutched at the knees near his sides and tried to relax, tried to make his blood stop boiling because gods curse him, he wasn't going to let Rikuo get poisoned from something like this. Not when their Fear was curling together in this closed-off room, moving against one another in an act similar to how they would be, if Zen could ever get the pain to stop. He wasn't new to the sensation, but he wasn't a masochist either.

"Hn… relax yourself, Zen."

"D-do-don't you think that's w-what I'm f-f-f-fucking t-trying to do, g-g-goddamn it?"

He stuttered when he was scared, and fuck it, this wasn't supposed to scare him. Having sex with the grandson of the leader who had taken his clan in and defended them, worked with them, shouldn't have scared him. The feeling of his Fear slowly being absorbed by a boy he had grown up with, declared himself brothers with, and shared drinks and laughs with wasn't supposed to scare him. The sensation of that same boy slowly inserting himself into Zen's body, deep enough to brush over something that made Zen's spread-out wings tremble wasn't supposed to scare him.

But it did.

Nura had wound his arms around Zen's waist and was currently stroking right between his wings while his hips moved up and down, Zen's grip alternating between his shoulder, his arm and his knees while he tried to stay stable and not freak out over the fact that his wings had become spread without his notice, and feathers were now freely drifting down in lazy circles while they did this. He didn't want to think about Nura being hurt because of _him, _being hurt _by _him. The thought made his stomach clench while he whole body broke out in cold sweat, and goddamn it, he wasn't going to let it happen.

The pleasure and pain and Fear blended together into one unnamed creation eventually, and Zen bit his lip and let Nura flex his hips a little harder, a little faster, until Zen keened into his chest and came, entire body trembling from the force of the climax Nura had given him. Nura murmured something that Zen didn't quite catch, but still made a blaze of red burn across his face, and held Zen's hips as he came inside the poison bird, the feeling making Zen shiver, his wings curling up on themselves.

The Fear eventually faded away, and Zen eventually stopped dropping feathers everywhere, but his body remained in place, tucked against the body of the boy who was and would be the Third Heir, and in time would lead his own Night Parade of a Hundred Yokai. A Parade, Zen told himself, that he would be there to see, come hell or high water. Provided the reckless Third Heir didn't put him in a grave first.

"R-reckless idiot. N-next time let me do something."

"I did. But if I left it all in your hands, I'd be an old man before we finished."

"S-stupid."

"Hn."

* * *

**A.N. – **I swear this started out as a gen drabble. I'm not sure what happened that turned it into smut. Oops?


End file.
